


Dawn of the Flames

by Mimzytoo



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimzytoo/pseuds/Mimzytoo
Summary: The Fifth Age of Man is drawing to a close.  Some wish it would come sooner.  The fey creatures of the former Middle Earth have other ideas.





	1. The Frying Pan

**Author's Note:**

> This is largely a work of speculative fiction using Tolkien's races and creations because I am a shameless fangirl. Eventually, there shall be dragons, elves, and magic. Perhaps other elements.

Killian didn’t remember when things had started to go wrong, or when he’d lost control of the situation. Maybe they were one and the same thing. But locked in the trunk of a car with his hands tied behind him, one shoulder twinging horribly from being thrown forward on it every time the car rounded a curve, he certainly had time to reflect on it. 

********************************************************************************

Perhaps it was when he’d first met Trey. They’d been in line at the book store in one of those indeterminable lines that wound around the shelf almost all the way to the back of the store. Killian had poked his head out of line long enough to ascertain that there were only two cashiers on duty. He grumbled and tucked his book of staff paper more firmly under his arm. If the music store had been open....if they were anywhere near as cheap as this deal was...he wouldn't be here.   
"Ridiculous, isn't it?" a voice beside him had muttered. He turned his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes to see who'd spoken. A skinhead? No, didn't seem the type. Maybe another musician with his pasty skin, shaved head and pretentious little soul patch under his lower lip. He couldn't tell what the man was referring to. 

"Huh?"   
"This. Them. All these people lined up for their deals." the man said again, eyes travelling up and down the line with an expression of disdain. Killian almost bit back his reply.  
"Well, yeah. But you're here." he pointed out. The man snorted, then grinned.  
"Touche. Trey Williams."   
"Killian Foster."  
"So why are you one with the masses of sheep?" Trey had asked a few moments later, when the line had inched forward maybe a foot and a half. What on earth were these people buying??  
"Staff paper." he answered, holding it up to show what it was. "Gotta finish a composition by Monday."  
"Oh, okay. College?"  
"Nah, commercial....uh...Bongo Tea." he admitted. Trey looked at him sidelong, appraisingly.   
"I see." he said. He was glaring at the line again. "Bet half these losers are out buying manga." 

"Least they're in a bookstore." Killian muttered. He'd been about to pass Trey off as another line-jerk, when he got his attention again.   
"Yeah, I guess. People don't read enough today, man. They're all about the internet, they forget the old stories."   
"You like old stories?" the words were out of his mouth before Killian could stop them. Trey had perked right up, a wide grin spreading across his face.   
"Oh hell, yeah, man! All the old myths, Norse gods, selkies, nymphs, dragons, kelpies..."  
"Oh wow, my mom used to have this book where like, these kids got on a kelpie and were stuck to it and gonna drown...."   
And the two hours stuck waiting in line hadn't seemed like that long. They'd formed a friendship right there, discussing all kinds of literature, myths, and monsters. They had a mutual love of dragons, those long-lived, frightful lizards with hoards of gold deep in the mountains. ("Oh, man, if Bilbo had just stabbed him in the EYE, man....") and Killian was able to turn the last 9 feet of waiting into a discussion of whether or not kelpies were considered horse-monsters or demons. They were exchanging numbers and Skype information by the time both were walking out of the book store.

That was how it had started. Guy nights at the bar with beer, and gradually a few of Trey's friends...who were equally obsessed with the myths. Killian thought he'd found a group of kindred souls, the first time he'd gone with all of them 'wisp hunting' out of the moors late at night with blue lights looking for elusive (and to him, non-existant) faerie lights. But it was all in good fun. Trisha, one of the group....Matt's sister or something, he couldn't remember...had come onto him after and he'd turned her down. Something had shifted in the group then.  
"Dude, if she'd come onto ME..." Trey had said, looking Killian over with what he only realized later, in the back of the car, was cool calculation. Killian had just shrugged and grinned.  
"Not my type."  
"Sex without strings!"  
"Not my type!"

*********************************************************************************

He didn't know how long it had been. He was in serious pain now, he couldn't control the way his head kept banging against the inside of the trunk, and he'd been straining against that zip tie for at least the better part of an hour and he'd lost all the feeling in his right arm. He remembered watching a video on YouTube where this little kid had gotten out of a plastic zip tie with relatively little effort...but there wasn't enough room in the trunk to get his arms in front of him and even if he had, she'd used her shoelaces and his didn't have any. Besides, the car wasn't on a paved road anymore, he guessed, judging by the bumping and shifting. The car shifted quite suddenly to the left and he was thrown forward again...there was a pop and a crunch and blinding pain in his face.   
"Fuck!!" he yelled, feeling and tasting blood pouring from his nose. "Dammit...!" He was more annoyed with himself that he'd resorted to useing the F word.   
At least the car was slowing down...whether or not that was a good thing, he couldn't tell. It probably wasn't, now that he thought about it. He was going to kick some serious ass....the car finally came to a stop, and he could hear the engine shut down. He tensed...when the trunk opened, he was going to jump out and kick Trey in the face and tackle Matt and make Jason take off that zip tie and then he was going to find his phone and call the cops and....

The lid of the trunk opened and he was blinded by a flashlight beam right in the eyes. He squinted and jerked his head away as hands grabbed onto his arms.  
"Oh man, you look like shit." Matt's voice came from somewhere behind him. "Told you we should have put him on his back, he's not perfect anymore."  
"He's still unbroken we can clean him up." Trey said, pushing Killian's head up and examining his face. "Maybe. Dude....what happened to your nose?"  
"Fuck you!" Second F word in less than ten minutes. Trey didn't seem to mind, evidently he'd heard that before.   
"Hmm, it doesn't look broken." he said, taking hold of it and moving it around a little. Killian bit back a yell, but jerked his face out of Trey's fingers.   
"Just get him out, come on, it's getting late." Matt again. He sounded impatient. Trey and Jason hauled Killian out of the trunk and his legs were so cramped he immediately collapsed on the grass. Grass, they were on grass. Somewhere out in the moors then. He squinted around....the sun was just going down and he couldn't see signs of civilization anywhere, no streetlamps, no nothing. He could hear the sound of waves somewhere. Wait, the ocean?

"What's going on?" he demanded, as he was hauled to his feet. He tried to dig them into the ground but wasn't getting any purchase on the slippery grass. They were going down a worn pathway. And there were other people there, he could see Trisha...and Megan, Keith, Andrew, Iain, Kelly....god, the whole gang. Almost twenty people there. "Hey!" he raised his voice. "What the hell! Let me go, this isn't funny!!"   
"Nah, man, this is all about you." Trey said, as they approached a flat area. Killian's foot hit a stone and he stumbled, Jason and James pulling him upright again. "Do you KNOW how hard it is to find a pure person?"  
"What the hell?" Killian demanded again. His anger had given way to something else, curling in the pit of his stomach. "What are you talking about?"  
"Pure person...you're IT, man..." Trey said, and Killian started to suspect the light in his eyes was pure, unbridled insanity. "You're educated, you got your own place, you don't sleep around--"

"HEY!"

"--and you know, like, ALL the myths. You're perfect. You're so lucky!" he finished, patting him on the back as they came around the bend. Killian did not feel lucky, despite the party atmosphere that seemed to be going. Coolers were open, beers were out, and Megan had her shirt off. There was a campfire going and Iain was crouched in front of it with what looked like a weather vane with sausages stuck on all four prongs.   
"You want a dog?" Jason asked courteously, as they came to a halt. Killian just stared at him. "Take it while you can, mate." he suggested, patting Killian on the chest and walking off to snag a beer and a plate of party food. Killian felt weak, but not as afraid as he had previously. Was this some weird sort of initiation or something?

"Can you take this thing off my hands?" he asked, eyeing James, who shook his head.   
"Naw, man. Sorry. You'll see when it's time." was it his imagination, or did James sound apologetic? His stomach flipflopped, he was afraid again.   
"Hey!!" Megan was bouncing his way. "Oh my God, you're here." she was beaming. It was a bit cool, he noticed, glancing down...coloring..and glancing back up to her face again. She grinned at him.   
"Last chance, pure boy!" she teased, standing on tiptoe and jiggling on purpose.   
"Hey, HEY!!" Matt snapped at her, and she pouted, turning away. "You got the robe?"  
"Yeah, yeah." she said, tossing her hair with one hand and taking a long gulp of the beer. "Finished it this morning, you want it now?" What on earth was going on? What robe?

The robe, as it turned out, was an off-white thing that looked like it'd been hand-sewn for a college production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and had probably been made from a bedsheet. It would have been funny if it hadn't caused another curl of fear in his stomach. He still tried to laugh it off. "What the hell is that supposed to be?" he cracked, as James pulled him around the side of the table. Then he noticed that James had a knife out. "Hey, hey, HEY!!" but James wasn't listening to him.   
"Okay here's the deal. I'm gonna cut the zip tie and you're gonna put on the robe. You try and run and I WILL cut you. So will Keith." he added casually, and Killian's eyes automatically snapped to Keith, who waved with half a sausage hanging rather lewdly out of his mouth. He also had a knife. The fear was back, curling in his stomach.   
"I'm not gonna put on the robe." he said, surprising himself. Kelly was coming over wiith what looked like a rag. James sighed.   
"You're going to put on the robe."  
"I'm not gonna-OOGH." Killian bent double as James' fist sank into his stomach. He couldn't even block it, and sank down towards the grass.  
"James!" Kelly scolded, bending over and starting to wipe the blood off his face. "Don't damage the goods."

"Put on the robe." James said, and the zip tie was suddenly gone. Killian looked down at himself. His arms hurt like hell after being forced behind his back for so long, and he wasn't sure he could put on anything. Kelly was still scrubbing at his face.   
"God, what happened to your face, you look awful." she said.   
"It's sore." Killian snapped, twisting his face out of her grasp. "HEY!!" he yelled. James had evidently grown impatient and had sliced up the back of his shirt.   
"Put on the--"  
"OKAY!!"  
The robe was not made from a bedsheet. It was slightly scratchy against his skin, and felt almost like burlap. It came down to his ankles and he felt stupid standing there.   
"Jeans off." James said.  
"Are you kidding?"  
"Jeans off." 

Killian glared at him, and worked his jeans off under the thing. He felt stupid. Aside from all that, there was still that curl of fear working its way up his stomach. James had hit him. They had knives. James put the knife in his pocket, and took hold of Killians arm.   
"I'm serious about the hot dog, do you want one?" Trey asked, popping back up. Killian just stared at him. He thought about punching him in the face, but dismissed that idea, his mind touching on the knife again.   
The sun was beginning to set, and the party atmosphere was getting rowdier. Kelly had her shirt off too, and most of the food was gone, but there seemed to be an almost endless supply of beer....none of which was offered to him. He wasn't sure he would have turned that down. James and Keith followed him around like hulking bodyguards, which he supposed they were. Someone had produced a radio, and the strains of music were enough to quell the fear in his stomach....until an hour later. They were lighting what looked like torches shoved into the ground, making a ring of fire, and now Andrew was holding up his hands. Trey slipped into the circle next to Killian and elbowed him in the side. 

"Here we go, man, you ready?"  
"Ready for WHAT?" Killian snapped back. No, he wasn't ready. "I swear to god, Trey if this is all some elaborate joke I'm going to kick your face in." Trey looked offended at the suggestion.

Andrew was making some sort of speech. Killian had tuned out the first part but now it registered that he was talking about HIM and looked up sharply.  
"....to find one pure of motives and relatively pure of soul. It may not be the perfect gift, but it is one that we have looked six years for. We've been struggling along in the dark places of this world, all of us looking for something--"  
"WOO!!" came someone's voice from the back. Andrew waved his arm for silence.   
"...All of us looking for something! And six years ago we found it! And tonight, we will ingratiate ourselves into its presence with this gift of a pure heart." he concluded, gesturing over at Killian.

Oh hell no.

Killian had just decided that this was NOT an elaborate initiation of some kind, and to hell with the knives he was OUT of here....when James grabbed one arm and Keith grabbed the other.   
"Hey...no...not doing this...whatever the hell you're doing, I'm not going to be a part of it..." he muttered with a lot less force than he wanted to have put into his words, but that curl of fear in his stomach had turned into a bonfire that was choking its way into his throat. Andrew was still speaking, but Killian couldn't hear it over the roaring in his ears. 

"Time to go, man." Trey said, clapping him on the back and yanking a torch out of the ground. He was insane, they were all insane.  
"Let GO! Let me go!! This isn't okay, man, this isn't right!" Killian found his voice and started shouting. They were going back down a path and the ocean came into view. The beach was down some hundred feet or so, and Killian confined his struggles...though he did try to knock Keith off the narrow path and over the side.   
"I don't care if it's against the rules, I WILL bust your face again, you try and push me!" Keith snapped, yanking him off his feet. He felt the robe rip a little around his knees. 

"Bite me, you crazy bastard! You're all going to jail, I swear to God..." Killian panted, as the first of them spilled onto the beach. The torches were the only source of light and he could see the waves crashing on a very rocky shore. Beyond that, was something huge, and dark. A cave?  
It was definitely a cave, he could see that as he got closer. Once they got down off the winding descent, he increased his efforts to pull free, though he didn't have the slightest clue where the hell he was going to run. Back up, he guessed. Maybe he could get the knife from James....

"Come ON...." James all but snarled, yanking him on the arm and jerking him off balance again. It was only now that he got a good look at what they were dragging him towards. The cave entrance had been kept well clear off, but about twenty feet in front of it were stacked a few wooden pallets, making a makeshift platform. And in the center of that...

"Oh, no....no, no, no, no, no....no, you can't be serious, you're not doing this, we're NOT DOING THIS!" his voice had risen an octave at the sight of the thing, and the secluded location, torches, and robe suddenly clicked into one horrible, completely batshit crazy realization. He didn't even realize he was laughing hysterically until Trey elbowed him in the ribs.  
"Hey, don't lose it now, dude...."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!!" Killian rattled, digging his legs into the sand and rocks, trying to get some, any purchase on them. He couldn't, he was getting closer. He yanked so hard on Keith that the younger man almost fell and he was sure he'd pulled his own shoulder out of socket, the pain was so intense.  
"HELP!!" he finally started screaming, as they wrestled him up on the platform. The tall, wooden pole looked like it had been a street light pole at some point, but they had cut it near the top, leaving six feet of smooth wood, about a foot in diameter at the bottom and tapering upwards. He was slammed up against it, and Keith and James pulled his arms back behind as Killian thrashed.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Trey was trying to reason with him. "It's just an offering, you won't feel much of it, okay? It's really important....you know the myths, you know how important it is. You're gonna be famous, we're gonna sing about this for YEARS...."  
"YOU FUCKING CRAZY ASSHOLE! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, LET ME GO! HELP!!" Killian screamed again, kicking out at whoever was close and feeling a moment's gratification at the pained grunt from Keith. Or James. He couldn't tell. His shoes and socks were being taken off.   
"STOP! PLEASE, STOP!!" But they weren't stopping, the zip ties were back, around his wrists and he was left there, his shoulders on fire from his struggling, and his vision was starting to go sparkly around the edges from sheer, black fear as he watched one of the others approach with the torch.

They were going to burn him at the stake.


	2. The Fire

"No, no, no, no, no!!!" Killian was repeating the litany to himself like a prayer...or a curse, struggling against the ziptie. There were sharp pains in his feet where he was sure he was getting a million splinters...and for a second he was laughing again, hysterically. The fire would burn them away, wouldn't it.   
"You're gonna be immortal, man!" Trey shouted in his ear. 

"PLEASE!!" No, no, this wasn't happening. Andrew had the torch, he was touching it to the wood piled under and around the pallet.   
"TO A NEW BEGINNING! A NEW TIME! AND A NEW WORLD!" he cheered, raising the torch high. Killian's shriek of terror was drowned out by the excited whoops of the people he'd thought were his friends. 

It was uncomfortably hot, the kindling was catching far faster than he would have liked...but something else was happening too. Was it an earthquake? The ground was definitely moving under the palettes....maybe it was just him and his thrashing. The smoke from the burning kindling was getting thicker, and he began to cough as it reached his eyes. His hair was in his face and he couldn't see. But there was movement in the cave as well, a low rumbling sound like the entire structure was collapsing. Some of the cheering stopped and he was vaguely aware that Megan was putting her shirt back on.

"Do not be fearful, this is our destiny!" Andrew was trying to retain control of the situation. Killian opened his mouth to shout at him, but at that moment, things began happening too fast for him to keep them straight. Funnily though, it seemed as if time itself was slowing down...it was a disorienting sensation.  
Searing pain rolled up his legs as the pallet finally caught fire. He sucked in a great lungful of air to scream again, but only managed to inhale a great deal of smoke and began coughing uncontrollably. With growing horror, he could FEEL his feet burning and there was nowhere to get away from it. He started to kick wildly as the robe caught fire. His feet were on fire. A thick bank of something was coming from the cave, engulfing him. Steam? Smoke? Mist? He couldn't tell, and at the moment, didn't care. He couldn't see through it and now he wasn't the only one screaming, several of the group had turned tail and bolted for the path back up off the beach. The steam...smoke...mist...was followed by what felt like wind. His eyes were stinging and watering, and he couldn't breathe in addition to not being able to see. Smoke, it was smoke. He smelled sulfur. 

He was on fire.

Then he wasn't on fire.

It was like the air had changed. He couldn't have explained the sensation, other than it felt like suddenly being put in a pressure chamber. His ears popped, and vaguely he got the insane idea that there was something moving past him. Something huge, so huge that it was the reason the ground was shaking and shifting. Black. The stake was wrenched from the ground and he was falling...pitching face first into the sand. Wet, smokey sand and salt water filled his nose, his mouth, his eyes. People were screaming everywhere now, and how ironic that he was going to die not as some burnt sacrificial gift to whatever-the-fuck these morons had been smoking but by drowning in the sand while being trampled to death by afore-mentioned whatever-the-fuck smoking morons. He couldn't raise his head above the sand. He took a breath, but all that he got was sand and water, scratching his throat, suffocating him from within.

He was drowning.

Dying.

The last thing he registered before the darkness overwhelmed him completely was an unholy wall of sound that blew out his eardrums. His last conscious thought was a bleak sort of humor appreciating the irony of it all. 

***************************************************************

Killian was drifting somewhere....it was peaceful, really, floating with the clouds. If this was death, it wasn't all that bad. But there was something wrong with his vision...everything kept getting brighter and brighter, hurting his eyes. The constant, soothing black was being replaced by red pain. Distorted souds filled what was left of his ears. It didn't bother him, but it did make him curious. He concentrated on them, trying to make sense of what they were trying to tell him. It felt as if both his ears were buzzing, bees whispering to him in a language he couldn't understand.

After a while he ceased trying and let the comforting darkness claim him again.

The next few times he woke, he lay listening for almost an hour. Time was meaningless anyway. The sound ebbed and flowed, and sometimes it became crystal clear for a moment, and he could discern individual words..."damage"..."blood"..."maybe" were the ones that stood out the most. Instead of alarming, they were simply intriguing. But all too soon, the blinding red came back and he would sink back into the darkness. The fourth time it was different. Gradually he began to be aware that he was staring at the red of the insides of his own eyelids, and the distorted sounds were beginning to resolve themselves into voices. Then into two separate voices, male and female. 

"I don't like it. I don't want them here. They're a liability." That one was female. Killian had no idea what or who she was talking about. She was terribly distorted, and there was something wrong with her volume control.

"I am not asking you to like it. Merely that you comply with my desire to have them here where they can be watched." This voice was male...but it didn't sound right. Well, neither of them sounded exactly right due to his wonky hearing, but this one much more so. Low...and deep enough that Killian could feel it vibrating up his body and reawakening old pains he had forgotten about and some brand new ones he hadn't realized he'd had. He wanted the speaker to shut up and stop rattling his spine. He was pretty sure that elephants had been dancing on it at some point last night before the explosion....his eyes shot open and he immediately threw his arms up to shield his face from the light. Mistake. 

"Hnnrrrrff guunng guh!!" he mumbled accusingly. That wasn't what he had meant to say but it had the same effect, stunning both voices into silence.

"Well." the female said after about a minute and a half. "You ARE in there, aren't you?" She sounded sardonic. Someone was gently prying his arms off his face, and he twisted away. More pain.

"Mmmn nmm..gggg wayyy."   
"Can't understand you." she said briskly, and laid a wet cloth over his eyes. He felt badly sunburned and sucked in his breath at the added pressure. The cloth was itchy.  
"Donnn't. Go awaay." he tried again, his voice scratchy and painful. There was something wrong with his own voice, too. He sounded horrible, and kept cutting in and out.  
"Can't do that either. You're damn lucky to be alive, you know. You were dead when I got out there." she continued. Killian already knew that, but his throat hurt too much to protest. He thought she sighed. At least the spine rumbling one was being quiet.

"You have some nasty burns on your legs but nothing `we can't handle. Dad blew your ears out. That's normal. You inhaled enough smoke to shut you down...and sand. You're going to shit sand at some point, sorry. Couldn't get it all." Whoever she was, Killian was developing a strong dislike of her.

"Hap..pened?" he asked. No answer from her. Something in the air shifted again, and the spine rumbler was back.  
"Tell him his guess is as good as ours. Tell him his friends set him on fire." it said. Killian already knew that too. The woman said nothing, irritably picking at a peeling patch of his sunburn. He had no idea how he could tell she was irritated. And why was the man telling the woman to tell him things? He could hear him....well, sort of. Why not simply tell him himself? He concentrated on breathing through his nose and clenched teeth. The pain had increased a hundred-fold since he'd woken properly. Now he remembered what had happened, but where was he? Certainly this was no hospital. He should really be in a hospital.

"Tell him he cannot be in a hospital." the rumbler said and now he was confused. Had the voice read his mind? He was still half convinced this was a fever dream, it was too surreal. This time the woman did repeat it exactly.  
"You can't go to a hospital. First, we're miles from one, second, there would be far too many nosy questions and investigations for my father's liking. There's already going to be a massive headache sorting out your friends." From the way she said the word friends, it was obvious she didn't think they were his friends either. 

"I need his permission."  
"He...and our family...can help you, but we will need your permission to proceed as a matter of etiquette." she want on. "Like a medical release." Killian wasn't sure he could even sign one of those. His fingers weren't working properly either, they felt still and swollen and painful....still nothing to the pain from the fire. A flash of memory skittered across his mind....the splinters in his feet. The fire had probably burned them away at least. He snickered weakly. There was another sigh.

"I do not see how any of this is remotely humorous, especially to you." she snapped. "Do you realize how much you have inconvenienced us?" If anything, Killian giggled harder, right through the pain. She was absurd!  
"I can't." she said, sounding disgusted. He heard quick footsteps and then a door opening and closing. The second voice was evidently waiting for him to get himself under control. It did take him a few minutes. 

"S'going on?" he gulped finally. He cautiously raised one arm to remove the wet cloth from his eyes. He still wasn't really aware of his own body, he seemed to exist in a sort of island of his own mind, surrounded by a red sea of pain bordering on agony. All he managed to do about the washcloth was jab it into his eye with his uncooperative fingers.

"Our contract is already formalized, young one, but all the same I should like your permission before I aid you. I will answer all your other questions in their time."   
That wasn't an answer, but Killian was becoming overwhelmed again by the red haze. "I...yes. God, please, yes, anything..." he gasped. 

"I am much obliged." came the answer. There was a brief pause. "You may call me Khan, when you are able." the voice was coming closer, until it's owner was standing beside him. Killian didn't know how he knew that either, though he thought it might have something to do with the change in the air that seemed to follow this person around. It was like pressure, pushing down on him from the air.

Killian didn't think he was going to last another few minutes. He wanted the darkness again, where the pain didn't exist anymore. Here it was too bright even through the washcloth, and too uncomfortably warm. In fact it was getting warmer by the second and he couldn't help the small whimper of pain. Too much heat! But then the pain started to recede...he could practically FEEL it throbbing along his skin. The surreal feeling settled in his stomach again, it was almost like there was mud sliding over his body and then crumbling off once it dried. 

A reawakening awareness of his body was followed by the realization that he was completely naked. Why on earth hadn't he noticed until now? His eyes flew open again under the cloth.  
"HEY!" he yelped, startling himself. "Where are my clothes??" 

"You did not honestly want to keep wearing that bedsheet. It was half burned away." the voice -Khan- said, sounding a bit irritated himself at the interruption.  
"Well, no........and it wasn't a bedsheet, but I had other clothes!" Killian pointed out, before he felt foolish...they'd been left on top of the overlook.  
"Then I shall fetch them at some point but in the meantime your body cannot handle clothes until I have seen to it so if you would please be still." 

Killian was stunned into silence himself. That made sense, sort of. He closed his eyes again, and soon the mud-covered feeling returned. The reddish haze in his eyes dimmed, the pain receding. He still hurt, but he could manage this. His voice, raw and burning, felt better.  
"Thank you." he whispered faintly. "What...what did you give me?" He didn't like taking drugs without knowing what was in them.  
"Give you?" Khan sounding confused. Killian swore he could feel the frown in that gravelly voice.

"In the shot, what was it..?" Killian pressed. He could lift his hand again, and grasp the washcloth now. He pulled it off and waited for his eyes to adjust.   
It really wasn't all that bright, he noted. The lighting was a softer amber, coming from hanging lamps with amber and red glass shades. Spots of red and gold splashed the walls...and reminded him uncomfortably of fire. He was laying on a bed that had been stripped of sheets and pillows, evidently to stop him oozing or bleeding on them. He tossed the washcloth over his crotch before turning his head to see who he had been speaking to....and then froze.

He hadn't expected him to be so big, and yet he had. It went with the voice, he supposed. The man calling himself Khan was well over six feet if he was an inch, looking down at him impassively from behind blue tinted glasses. Dusky skin and a face surrounded by straight black hair that was apparently held back with something. He seemed to be wearing a black silk caftan with some embroidered design across one side.

"I did not give you a shot." he was saying. Killian frowned. He must have, and he was lying about it. That thought wasn't a pleasant one.   
"Well what did you do then?" he asked impatiently. Khan regarded him a moment.  
"I am not entirely sure I should tell you. I am not sure your mind can handle that kind of knowledge at this time."  
"Yeah, about that. My former friends tied me up, kidnapped me, and almost burned me alive, I think anything you say isn't going to make it any weirder than it already is, okay? When I leave I'm checking myself into a mental ward."

He hadn't meant for it to come out so sarcastically, but there was no taking it back. Khan simply spread his hands, a gesture that probably passed for a shrug wherever he was from. Killian had guessed 'foreign' but was having a hard time pinning down possibilities.  
"Very well then, I called upon the old magic of the Earth itself to soothe what had been injured, and take back into itself that which had been hurt. I will have to do so again until you are healed." he explained. He looked completely serious about it.   
There were six seconds of incredulous silence before Killian spoke again.  
"You're stark raving mad." he said flatly.

"You asked."  
"I'm leaving now." he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.   
"Without your clothes."   
"I'll find them. I'm going." Killian said. He didn't even make it to his feet, the second they took his weight, he cried out in agony and pitched over.   
Moving faster than Killian thought possible, Khan had reached down and caught him by the back of the neck before he hit the floor. Killian still hadn't quite processed that when Khan picked him up and set him on the side of the bed again with terrifying ease. It was like Killian weighed nothing at all. He stared over at Khan with wide eyes, and then down at those hands! They were huge, and he'd had a spectacular sharp-talon manicure. His nails were at least an inch long. Maybe two? He'd painted them milky white.

"This is insane, this is absolutely insane!" Killian hissed, rocking a little. He covered his crotch with his hands and tried to think. Moving hurt more than he wanted to admit, and eventually he stopped, and lay back down, concentrating on breathing. Khan merely watched him with his head tilted a little, like he was some sort of fascinating wild animal he'd stumbled across.   
Finally, Killian organized his thoughts and voice.

"You're telling me that you used old magic and what? Magically healed me?" he couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice.  
"Yes." Khan said patiently, a teacher waiting for the slow child to grasp the concept.   
"So you're supposed to be what, a sorcer?" Killian asked, also unable to keep the sneer off his face. That seemed to amuse Khan and he gave a small shake of his head.  
"Of course not. I am a dragon."

Killian lost it.


End file.
